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ORATION 



Dfi.ivered at Chicago, July 22, 1897, '\'" '"k Dkdicaiion of thk 

MONUMKNT TO TIIK MeMORY OF 

MAJOR-GENERAL JOHN A. LOGAN. 

Erected by Uie State of Illinoia, under an Act of the legislature 
Approved February 10, 1887. 



HV 

GEORGE R. PECK. 



I 



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GP:()R('.K R. I'HCK. 



ILLINOIS is i)roud and happy. Waiting' patiently 
for a fitting time, she opens all her welcoming gates 
and bids the world take note what breed of men she 
rears. Here is the product of her soil, and here she 
brings a mother's exultant heart to be enshrined. This 
great city, the lake with all its breadth of waters, the 
prairies stretching outward to the West, and the sky, 
mingling light and cloud in an ever changing picture, 
are resplendent witnesses of the scene. The event, the 
hour, and the man are historic. 

Once, upon a day like- this, the pulse of summer was 
beating hot and fierce, when a great leader fell, as 
leaders must fall if it be so appointed. Some are here 
to whom it seems but yesterday. They remember the 
clustering pines, the thickets dark with the foliage of 
July, the spires of Atlanta wooing them forward yet a 
little farther; and they remember, too, as they will re- 
member always, the message, speeding like an ar- 
row in its flight, that told how McPherson lay dead in 
his harness, ere yet his fame had passed its dawn. 
Surely, I am not wrong in saying that never was this 
Nation in more deadly peril than when the Army of 
the Tennessee was left like some great rudderless ship 
in the grasp of the storm. 

" Of what avail are men," says Carlyle, "when we 
must needs have a man? " But the m.\n came; nay, he 
was already there, flashing, as was his wont, in that im- 
perious way which scorns to parley with fate, but sub- 
dues it with a glance. On that day — July 22nd, 1864 — 
John A. Logan was born to immortality. 

Here we place his image for all generations. Here 



we salute the soldier, the statesman and the man, in 
memory of that sublime moment when he took into his 
kee])in<j the Ha^;, the issue and the cause. 

Anniversaries are harmonies; and, in observing 
them, we set history to music. On that day, none 
looked forward to this. But time has a magician's 
hand, and, when it has transformed real things into 
dreams, touches the dreams and, straightway, they are 
real again. Behold the bronze epic! Anna viriniujjie io 
all who shall gaze on these heroic features. Out of 
the past the Battle of Atlanta comes back distinct and 
clear, though then but a weltering struggle. The years 
give us the perspective; and now we see, as we could 
not when the smoke of battle was over us, that devoted 
army, — which was the incarnate West, — desperately 
facing the foe, while one great thought filled every 
heart: " Logan is here! " In their agony, having no 
other refuge, they took counsel of faith, and bravely 
trusted that all would go well if he guided their for- 
tunes. 

Art has a subtle vision. It worships beauty and 
therein, if we but knew it, shows its wisdom. Poems 
and songs are links which unite it to Nature, and to 
human nature, which is the flower of all things. It 
puts light and color upon canvas, only that the picture 
may speak the universal language. It shapes ideals 
into form, as Phidias carved in the rude marble those 
dreams of beauty that haunted him when he thought 
of Marathon. How can we ever forget, while this 
brave figure guards the City's front, that art is the 
true minister of life? Its noblest conceptions rise 
from events which have moral grandeur in them; from 
illumined moments, when some soul has reached its 



highest exaltation. Seeing tliat they are beautiful, it 
keeps them so forevermore. 

And yet, art does not create beauty, but only serves 
it. The gleam of a sword, the bright colors of a flag 
carried forward with the advancing line, the depths of 
eyes " with the flame of battle in them," are true artistic 
inspirations; but they inspire only because they have a 
meaning, visible not to sight but to insight. 

The soldier in battle does not, consciously, arrange 
dramatic situations. When John A. Logan, summoned 
of destiny, rode along those bleeding lines, beau- 
tiful in the deep sense that makes the heroic 
always beautiful, he little thought of the banners 
that wave for him today. Goethe declared that genius 
could always be known by its doing first the duty that 
was nearest. The Greeks believed that ships steered 
by the gods always came to port; but a truer knowledge 
counts upon the practical skill and courage of the man 
at the helm. 

That day at Atlanta had none of the romantic sur- 
roundings which give artificial renown to battle fields. 
No pyramids, iiiding the grim secrets of the centuries, 
looked down upon them. It was not Lodi, where a 
general could dash across a bridge to victory. There 
were no narrow paths to glory. It was breast-to-breast 
fighting, such as seldom comes in any war; a confused 
mass, struggling against an enemy that was everywhere. 
And in the midst of them was Logan, — chief, not be- 
cause of his epaulets, but because the command had 
fallen on one who knew what to do and could not 
breathe until it was done. 

He is past all flattery. Shall we call him brave? 
Others have worn that crimson badge. Great men be- 



come types. The peojile single them out, with the 
ready common sense which belongs to no man, but to 
all men. Whatever is heroic, they can make classic. 
Logan is Our Great Volunteer. So they have named 
him, and so he will be known when we are forgotten. 
His place in the war is secure. The chroniclers 
of the future will write of him as Froissart did of the 
knights and heroes of media'val times. It is, and will 
be always, a glorious story. 

The profession of arms is an inspiring one. There 
is a lustre upon it, which, in every age, has attracted 
chivalric spirits, and made them happy to be its orna- 
ments and its exemplars. The scholar, whether in 
business, in politics or in war, is almost always superior 
to his untrained rival. Grant and Sherman and Sheri- 
dan illustrate the advantage which a country possesses 
that has in its service men instructed in military knowl- 
edge. But a puissant nation, such as came into the 
meditations of John Milton, when it rouses itself from 
sleep, vaults over scholastic rules, and puts men into its 
ranks, little regarding the methods which are taught in 
schools. Science has always found its way into columns 
that move forward. Cajsar and Marlborough and Fred- 
erick were great commanders; but those who read with 
seeing eyes perceive that generals only lead men; and 
that battles, however planned, are usually determined 
by the plain courage of the rank anti file. 

In calling him The Great Volunteer, we have, un- 
wittingly, done injustice to Logan. He was not a mere 
fighter. He had the rare genius of leadership- Ask 
those who served with him, and they will answer: " Men 
whom Logan led, never turned back." Only a com- 
prehensive mind can take events as they come and 



mould them to its will, as if they had been ordered in 
advance. Regiment, Brigade, Division, Corps, Army, 
— these are the steps he took, and never trippetl nor 
faltered. 

The real jiroof of genius is the manner in which 
high responsibilities are met- Abraham Lincoln, in tlur 
school of Sangamon, was hardly a prophecy of him 
who became the foremost man of all this world. 
Galena and Appomattox are wide apart ; but Grant 
spanned them. The law of growth rules; and only 
those who can rise to occasion are great. Measure 
Logan by this unfailing test and he becomes collossal. 
Emerson tells, in a familiar line, how Michael Angelo 
"wrought in a sad sincerity;" but so in truth does every 
man who, in the stress of duty, builds domes or carves 
statues or fights battles. 

Let us see Logan under the light that reveals motives 
and acts. The summons that came, in the Spring of 
1861, found us, as such a summons always does, unpre- 
pared. Peace is never quite ready for war. It was 
the month of flowers, 

" When prdud-piccl April, dressed in all hi? trim, 
Hath put a spirit of youth in everything." 

The seed was waiting to be dropped into the earth ; 
the sun, swinging round to the North, was calling every 
field and farm to the oft repeated, but never compre- 
hended, mystery of a new^ birth. The blow fell while 
we were welcoming the buttercups ; and it gave such a 
hurt as we never felt before. It was cruel beyond all 
our imaginings, for it seemed to write Failure as the 
end of everything for which we had hoped. Thus it 
touched our pride as well as our affections. More than 
all, it brought the deepest grief to those who were best 
able to appreciate its latent meanings. 



6 

John /\. Lofran, onl}' thirty-five years of age, was 
already a striking figure in our national politics. He 
sat in the House of Representatives, that body which 
touches the people at every point, and in it he was a 
tribune. Himself triuni])hantly re-elected the pre- 
ceeding autumn, he had seen his jmrty beaten, his 
adored leader, Douglas, defeated, and — what to him was 
infinitely worse — his country hopelessly drifting into 
civil war. In those sad days every heart had its own 
sorrow. No one can doubt that he remembered, as 
true men do, his party ties ; the friends who had been 
so staunch ; his boyhood service in the war with 
Mexico ; and those nameless tender affections which 
link strong natures to the scenes of childhood. May- 
hap, too, he thought of a future over-cast and clouded, 
of shattered hopes, and plans that never could be real- 
ized. Then came the test. John A. Logan was, in the 
heart of him, gold. Out of the crucible the metal 
flowed, melted, indeed, but melted into fineness. He 
was not the man to cower before any responsibility, for 
in his veins was that rich Celtic blood, which makes- 
the resolute, onward character. 

" well for him whose will is strong ! 
He suffer.s, but he will not suffer long ; 
He suffers, lnit he cunncit suffer wrontr." 

Logan cut the knot, as brave men do. He went into 
the war before he had a legal right, and fought at Bull 
Run under no appointment but that of his own un- 
daunted heart. On that ill-starred day, grave states- 
men were pondering at the Capitol, as they had never 
pondered before. Doubtless the record of Con- 
gress shows that Logan was absent without leave. But 
out beyond the Potomac he was lighting, musket in 



hand, in the ranks of the fated arm} of the Union. H( 
had deserted the House to be a volunteer for the war. 
They tell of him yet, as he pressed forward through the 
smoke, in the silk hat he had forijotten to change, but 
which never became him so much as when it towered 
that day over his swarthy face, and those eyes which 
were, indeed, the windows of his soul. 

After Bull Run, he went back to his home in South- 
ern Illinois, facing friend and foe alike, with the defiant 
note which told them — what they already knew — that, 
come what might, he was for the Union and the War. 
That day he conquered " Egypt." Everywhere he sowed 
the words that Douglas had uttered: "There can be 
but two parties, patriots and traitors." Then came 
the regiment he raised, and, after that, in a brave, 
orderly sequence, Belmont, Donelson, Corinth, X'icks- 
burg, Atlanta, and— PEACE. 

Something, perhaps, I ought to say of his nature as a 
man; the nature that ruled him, as temperament always 
does, in field, in camp and in senate. He was not 
easily controlled. There was iron in his blood; and 
there was fire, too, which, when he was aroused, blazed 
into a consuming wrath. But this is his glory: the self- 
willed, dominant temper always yielded submissively 
to the stronger spirit of patriotism. 

Take one or two examples, of the many, which illus- 
trate this sublime characteristic. When Logan had 
fought the Battle of Atlanta, and saved a day that was 
lost; when he had shown the consummate qualities of a 
great leader; he thought, and he had a right to think. 
he might keep what he had won,— the command of an 
army that loved him. For less than he had done. Na- 
poleon made men Marshals of the Empire; and bade 



them he the companions of Davout and Ney and 
Massena. But it was not to be. The Army of the 
Tennessee was sriven to another; and Logan went back 
to his corps, making no sign. 

•' Jly nature is subdued 
To what it works in," 

wrote Shakespeare, in that sonnet which, critics say, 
revealed his inmost heart. No words can more truly 
shcnv us Logan's heart; for all he did, or hoped or as- 
pired to was subdued by one master passion, his 
country. 

Later, when the war was almost over, and the in- 
evitable triumph was plainly visible, there came to him 
an op])ortunity which would have been a trial and a 
temptation to most men. But it was not to him. Grant 
sent him to relieve Thomas, antl, in doing so, gave 
notice to all the world that Logan was fit for high 
command. It was one of the most picturesque situa- 
tions of the war. The Army of the Potomac was hold- 
ing the Confederacy by the throat, while Sherman, 
marching to the sea, was cutting all its veins, and 
arteries. Meanwhile. Thomas, with beleaguered Nash- 
ville at his back, was making ready, slowly but surely, 
lor the blow that should kill. Grant, the Imperturbable, 
watching the movements of all the armies, was, for 
once, impatient, and could wait no longer. He called 
for his Thunderbolt; and sent Logan to make the fight. 
I could name men, with stars on their shoulders, who 
would have seized that opportunity to humiliate the 
brave Virginian, whom men well called The Rock of 
Chickamauga. He, like Logan, had become a type. 
He was a synonym for enduring courage which stays 
forever in its place. 



9 

But Logan, hastening to the field where Thomas 
and Hood were preparing for their last grapple, 
stopped at Louisville; not because it was best for his 
own fortunes, but because it was right. He, who wouUl 
have flown to any place where danger lay, haltd aet 
that supreme moment. He ruled his own soul; and 
his conduct shines with a great light, when we read, in 
Sherman's Memoirs, that, less than six months before, 
after the death of McPherson, Thomas — conscien- 
tiously, no doubt — remonstrated warmly against giving 
the command of the Army of the Tennessee to Logan. 
The day Logan halted on his way to Nashville 
brought him the noblest revenge that ever one brave 
man had over another. In his pocket was the order 
which gave him the right to supersede the General 
who had said he ought not to command the Army of 
the Tennesee. It is like some story of old romance. 
Both now are gone. Their armies will never camp 
again, but the Nation loves and honors the two men 
who were thus drawn together in those last great days. 
The world will long remember that brave deed when 
Logan stopped at Louisville, and left Thomas to go 
forward, in his own way, to a victory which was like 
Cromwell's Crowning Mercy. 

This day is dedicated to Logan as a soldier. He 
won it from the calendar, and made it his own. But, 
in the midst of all its pageantry, let us not forget 
that he was a statesman in the most trying times of 
our history. It is not for me, at such a moment, 
to discuss any question of party opinion. Logan was a 
man of positive views; plain, direct and uncompro- 
mising. For what he believed to be right he 
was as fearless in the Senate as on the field. 



10 ' 

He was for freedom; and for all those great amend- 
ments of the Constitution that made freedom organic 
in this Nation; he was for equality before the law; 
he was for the common soldier who had felt the 
wound, which is the soldier's best decoration; he 
was for the national honor on land and sea; for the 
.Vrmy and Navy, and for force, if need be, to defend 
every right which ought to be recognized without force. 

He loved Illinois, and Illinois loved him — the son 
she had nursed in her own cradle. He was loyal to 
her, and faithful to the uttermost; but he believed, as 
this great State has always believed, that " the soil of 
Illinois is the soil of the United States." 

It is little to say that he was honest. Through 
all his great career he went unscathed, and no 
man ever whispered in his ear a thought of 
personal gain. If any one had ventured, he would 
have seen, in that flashing eye, such a warning as made 
the slave, sent to kill Caius Marius, f\y quaking from 
the presence of him who had been Consul. 

If we listen, we shall hear an echo of all we do to- 
day. The people, e\erywhere, are thinking of him, 
because he always thought of them. It is an old lesson, 
and a good lesson. We never needed it more than now. 
If he were alive, what voice would ring like his 
for civic honor? What form would lead like his, 
the Nation, the State and the City? Nothing was too 
great, nothing too small, if only it were right, for him to 
espouse. To all the duties of peace, he brought the 
same brave determination that made him great in war. 

He, more than any other, created the Grand Army 
of the Republic — that organization which makes us re- 
member what we are prone to forget. Here his form 



11 

will sleep forever, guarded by them and by those who 
follow them. I greet you, Comrades, who now again 
attest your fealty to him, and to the Nation for whosi- 
honor you so often followed him to victory. 

It was he who gave us the sweet observance of Me- 
morial Day. Only a poet could have thought it; only 
a poet could have made it come true. It is, beyond all 
others, our dearest holiday; our festival of memory, 
love and beauty. We shall keej:) it forever, with all the 
flowers that grow upon prairies and in gardens and on 
mountain sides. And there will be tears. 

Is it not something to remember, and to be jjroutl 
of, that, in this great ceremony,, those who followed 
another flag have come to pay their tribute to the 
Citizen-Soldier? Men of the South, the Grand Army 
welcomes you; the Loyal Legion welcomes you; Illinois 
welcomes you; and all the North greets you with an 
open hand. Every soldier is thankful that he has 
lived to behold such omens of the future. Side by 
side we march to-day, and all men see at last how well 
blue and gray become each other, when, together, 
they bear the flag of union, liberty and peace. 

Here we make a sacred place. Here we consecrate 
a name already consecrated in our bravest annals. 
We give the statue to the world, in presence of the wife 
he loved and honored, and whom we love and honor. 
No friend was ever so true and devoted as this wife 
of his youth, who became the wife of his fame. She 
lives in the proud and tender memory of days 
that cannot return. This is to be their everlasting 
resting-place; and here generations will bow reverently 
by the dust of those whom God joined together. Their 
children and their children's children learn in all these 
majestic rites how great a name they bear. 



12 

Illinois has kept her trust. This great Common- 
wealth hails to-day the noble image she has carried in 
her heart so long. It is worthy of her, worthy of him 
who wrought it, and worthy of him whose features it 
embodies. He is not ours alone; but yet we claim him 
first. In coming 3'cars, the throngs that crowd the 
avenue will see a silent figure always on duty. They 
will know, — and all the world will know, — it is Logan. 



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